


The Long Awaited Reunion

by avengersgoddess



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Don't Even Know, Other, Sansa just wants to stare at Sandor, Sisters, sisters taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersgoddess/pseuds/avengersgoddess
Summary: The Hound broods. The Little Bird endures. They reunite in Winterfell during the war.**This story used to be called She Felt it in Her Bones.**





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor Clegane has a lot on his mind as he rides north with Jon Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Okay, I’m taking a whack at another chapter, but then decided that the original chapter one should be chapter two. Sorry!

They were about a day’s ride from Winterfell and Sandor Clegane was brooding over those he served. Brooding over those he’d never see again. Wondering why he was heading back to the gods-forsaken north instead of trying to save his own ass by heading to Braavos or Dorne. Somewhere without all this fucking snow and ice. His mind kept playing the same song of those he mourned: _Elder_ _Brother_. _Princess_ _Myrcella_. _His_ _sister_. _His_ _own_ _childhood_. _His_ _little_ _bird_. All kind, caring souls he’d never see again.

Even as he cursed it all in his head, Sandor knew he could only ever go north in truth. Sandor had ridden far north with Jon Snow and would follow him to the end of his days. He wasn’t one to make public vows, but figured this was the closest he’d ever come to believing in one.

He’d never served an honest king before. He caught himself second-guessing his king’s actions many times, not because he thought Jon had an ulterior motive, but because he just wasn’t used to his leaders being good and honorable. He didn’t have to read between the lines to find the true meaning of his king’s intentions. Jon Snow told it true. He now understood that there was a whole different kind of duty than simply doing what a king told you because he paid well. He trusted Jon Snow, even if he was a cunt too willing to die for others.

Daenerys Targaryen, however, he wasn’t sure about. He thought she had good intentions, but also thought she lost herself in demanding respect and power simply because of her name and her dragons. The dragons were awe-inspiring and he was glad he was on their side, but he had also had enough of being forced to follow someone based on their own belief that they were owed power and respect.

Since leaving King’s Landing and learning from Elder Brother, he was more aware than ever that no one is owed respect. You had to earn it based on your actions and your own willingness to give up yourself to protect your people.

He knew the queen had shown this before — freeing slaves and saving their group that had gone north certainly fell in that category. But more often than not, he felt the Daenerys was more focused on telling people she was the queen versus showing why she should be queen.

No, he liked the idea that the northern lords had decided Jon was their king based on his actions. Jon was a bastard, he didn’t expect to be followed and honored, he just did what he felt needed to be done. That was why he was king - because he was good and he didn’t seem to actually care about being king.

So he’d follow his king into battle and protect him as Jon tried to protect everyone else. He might admire his king, but Jon was still a dumb cunt trying to save the world.

At least he’d get to breathe the same air his little bird had once breathed.


	2. Chapter 2

The second Sandor Clegane rode into Winterfell, she knew. She had no idea how she knew, but she felt it deep in her bones. She felt the muscles in her arms unclench, relaxing for the first time since she returned home as the Lady of Winterfell.

She knew of course that Jon and his company were on their way back from King's Landing and that he was bringing that queen of his with him. She had heard whispers that the infamous Hound was riding beside her brother, sword at the ready. She had thought him long dead, had mourned him, and refused to believe the swirling rumors until she saw him with her own eyes. And yet she often found herself begging the gods for even a kernel of truth in his survival, desperately wanting them to be true.

She had full faith in Jon, as her brother and as her king, but little faith in others who called themselves leaders. She trusted her eyes and her stomach and her sister. She mostly trusted the Three Eyed Raven, at least the Bran part of him. She trusted Littlefinger to scheme, Cersei to lie, and the snow to come. She trusted Lady Brienne to be by her side and Ser Davos to respect her knowledge and opinions.

But most of all, she trusted Sandor Clegane to curse and grumble and scowl; she trusted him like she trusted herself and to be there when she needed him. She had no idea why she felt this way, she hadn’t seen him in years. The last time she saw him, he had threatened her and lashed out to cover his fear, and yet she knew he’d die protecting her.

Sansa didn’t want him to die for her though. She just wanted him to be the man he was meant to be before his brother and Cersei and Joffrey got to him. She wanted him to be the Ser she’s seen in him so many times.

As she strode towards the center of the keep to greet her king, her eyes skipped right over the light haired queen and caught on Sandor’s scarred face. She stared for so long that her sister kicked her ankle, her eyes asking questions that would never pass her lips. Sansa smiled a little and nodded in Sandor's, forcing Arya to follow her gaze. Her sister had told her all about her escape from King's Landing with the Night's Watch and about leaving her traveling companion to die on the side of the road. She hated hearing that part of the story and sighed in relief when she saw Arya’s eyes light up and a smirk settle on her face.

“The Hound,” Arya whispered. “He’s even harder to kill than I thought.” She paused. “Good. We need all the friends we can get.”

Sansa heard what she wasn’t saying, relieved, but not surprised, to know it aligned with her own thoughts. Regardless of their childhood, they now made an excellent team. Sansa had the words and the poise to draw people’s respect and support, while Arya had the talent and the boldness to protect and act.

“Arya, let’s make sure our honored guests are treated as such. Make sure they’re given extra warm rooms and plenty of food,” she ordered, eyes still on the Hound.

To anyone else, she was making a mundane comment to ensure their southron friends didn’t freeze overnight, but she knew Arya understood her meaning. The warmest rooms were in the family wing and there happened to be an empty one right between theirs. She wanted to keep him close, to honor him and for her own peace of mind. She closed her eyed and released her last pent up breath, her shoulders dropping slightly as she relaxed. _Safe_ , her mind sighed.

She knew Arya noticed and felt her sister reach out to take her hand.

“Of course, sister,” Arya said, squeezing Sansa’s hand. “I’ll take care of it at once.”

Arya walked away to find Sansa’s maid. She knew why _she_ was happy to see the Hound alive and to have him close by, but now she wondered at Sansa’s knowledge of him. There was a lot that Sansa had told her of her time in King’s Landing and with Petyr before coming home to Winterfell, but she knew there was even more she hadn’t shared.

Sansa was the bravest person she knew; she had lived through so much pain and manipulation, yet still she endured and led their people. Arya often heard her crying at night and would sneak in under the covers to stroke her hair, but during the day, Sansa held herself together as a true lady and leader. Arya used to hate her courtesies and perfect posture and words, but now she realized that they were simply another form of armor. She may not wield a sword, but she carved her words out politely and kindly, wrapping herself in an invisible cocoon to protect herself from others. She would protect her sister from anyone meant to cause her harm and would happily bring the Hound on board if it helped her sister untie the knot deep in her soul.

 After finding the maid and issuing her sister’s order, she stalked over to the Hound.

“Hound,” she shouted. “You’re with me.”

Sandor Clegane looked up from his horse, his gaze landing on Arya in confusion. The wolf girl rolled her eyes and casually looked around the yard, pausing on a figure standing in the middle. His eyes followed and stuck. Sansa Stark. His little bird. She was staring at him with a tiny plea in her eyes.

“Aye,” he said, locked on Sansa and adding another knife to his belt. “I’m with you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alive. She stood in the middle of the chaos, pale as the snow surrounding them, more beautiful than he ever thought possible.

Sandor’s mind was reeling as he processed the fact that his little bird was here in Winterfell. _Alive_. She stood in the middle of the chaos, pale as the snow surrounding them, more beautiful than he ever thought possible.

How hadn’t he known? He’d headed past the wall and back down to King’s Landing and she’d been here. He’d spent the last months serving her brother and it had never come up that she was here. _Alive_ , he kept thinking.

“Hound!”

Sandor pulled his gaze from Sansa and looked down. The little she-wolf stepped into his space and he smothered the urge to shove her away, to get some distance. He wasn’t surprised to see her here, alive and well. She’d always been a fighter, too bold and aggressive for her own good. Now, his gaze took in Arya’s frame -- she was dressed like a little lordling with her twig of a sword on one hip and a new dagger on her other. It fit her, he decided; she’d never wanted to be a lady. Her hair was pulled back like her brother’s and she held a serious look on her face.

“Follow me,” she ordered. Sandor glanced back up towards Sansa, to see what she wanted of him. He knew he came here to fight for Jon, but if he was being honest with himself, that all had changed the moment they locked eyes.

Sansa slowly walked towards Sandor, her hands clasped in front of her. She stopped in front of him and tugged her sister back a couple steps. She reached out her hands and took one of his in both of hers.

“Welcome,” she smiled. “Please go with my sister. I’m sure you two have lots to catch up on and she’ll show you to your rooms. She can also show you around Winterfell. She knows the secrets of the buildings better than anyone.”

Sandor blinked at her, mind stuck on how soft her skin was. “Little Bird,” he grunted, voice breaking.

She squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckle. “You and I will have to speak later. Please go rest. I need to treat with the queen.”

Sandor saw the tightening of her eyes and immediately straightened up, dropping his other hand to the sword on his hip. “Litt -- my lady, I’ll stay with you. I will rest later.”

Sansa smiled again, wishing she could wrap herself in his arms. “Ser, I am well-protected, please go rest. My brother will be there, as will Lady Brienne. I will see you in the Great Hall later?” she asked.

“I will be wherever the lady wants me to be,” he stated as he dropped her hands and took a step back. Knowing that Lady Brienne would be with Sansa made him feel better. She’d bested him in combat, which meant she was one of the few he felt safe leaving his little bird with. _She’s not yours_ , his mind whispered.

Suddenly Arya popped back up at his elbow, snorting loudly. “Come on,” she insisted. “You two can make eyes at each other later. I need to bring you up to speed.”

Sansa blushed and whispered, “Go. We’ll speak later.”

He reluctantly let the she-wolf pull him away and followed her into the Keep. They started up a set of stairs before turning down a hallway.

“Gods, could you two be any more obvious?” she hissed. “This is a bad idea. Jon is going to be so angry.”

Sandor didn’t respond right away, knowing he didn’t have any excuse for his actions around Sansa. Arya knew more of his secrets than most, especially his long-held desire for her sister. He kept following Arya up another flight of stairs and behind a set of doors before finally noticing that the wing they were in was empty of all others.

“Where are you taking me, girl?” he rasped. “I won’t let you try to kill me a second time. And what’s Jon got to be upset about?”

Arya laughed. “Don’t worry, it sounds the like the dead are aiming to kill us all on their own. I won’t kill a friend.”

“A friend? Is that what we are now? What happened to your little list?”

“You’re a friend to Sansa, that’s all I need to know,” she said. “And I decided that if you didn’t die when I left you, I’d take you off my list. You lived. I’ll keep my promise.”

Sandor grunted once before asking again, “why is your brother going to be angry at you?”

“Not me, you troll. You. And Sansa,” she said no more as she opened a door to a large room and ushered him in.

Sandor walked in, looking around. It was the nicest room he’d seen since King’s Landing. Suddenly, he put the puzzle together. The luxurious room. No one else in the wing. The king being angry.

He whirled around. “Where are we?” he growled. “A known killer doesn't just show up to Winterfell and end up in some of the best rooms in the keep.”

Arya snorted. “Looks like you aren’t the idiot that people think you are.”

Sandor rolled his eyes and continue looking around. “Spit it out, girl. What’s the fucking meaning of this?”

Arya bent down to start a fire in the grate. “I’m just following Lady Stark’s instructions. She ordered you to be placed in the family wing.”

“The family wing? Is she trying to get me killed?”

“I sincerely doubt it. Sansa hasn’t been herself since we returned to Winterfell. She… has had a hard life since you last saw her. She feels safe around you and wants you close. This room is between mine and her’s. I can take care of myself, but if you hear her scream in the middle of the night, break down her door.”

“A hard life? What could be harder than living in the same hellhole as that cunt Joffrey?”

“They’re not my secrets to tell and even I don’t know everything. All I know is that she said she’d wished she’d stayed in King’s Landing. She got beaten everyday and treated like a traitor, but it was still the lesser of evils for everything that happened after.”

Sandor paled. “After was worse than King’s Landing? Fuck.”

“Yeah, so she has nightmares most nights and wakes up screaming and crying. She’ll wake up thinking she’s still with Ramsey Bolton and-”

“The fucking Boltons? Who the fuck gave her to the fucking Boltons? They are vile, violent cunts,” Sandor fumed, pacing throughout the room. “Aye, I’ll keep her safe. She won’t leave my line of sight if I have anything to do with it.”

“Good. Jon means well, but I don’t think he understands what Sansa went through. He knew Ramsey hurt her, but he still believes that people are naturally good and honorable. Sansa and I know better now,” Arya rolled her shoulders as she stood up to leave. “I’m going to go find her. Make sure she and the queen are both still alive.”

Sandor ignored her, lost in his own thoughts of what Sansa must have experienced at the hands of the Boltons. His stomach roiled and he feared he was about to get sick.

“Hound!”

Sandor jerked his head up and glared at the she-wolf. “What? Leave me be.”

Arya’s lip curled, “Fine. But for the love of the gods, take a bath.” With that, she stalked out the room and left Sandor behind, confused and angry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, that went well,” Arya snarked as Jon left the hall. “If I play nice and don’t kill her do you think she’d let me ride her dragon?”

Sansa desperately wanted to be upstairs with Sandor, away from the Great Hall. She didn’t care for this queen -- could already tell they weren’t going to see eye-to-eye. She saw the way her brother looked at her and didn’t fault him for loving this beautiful woman. Her brother deserved some happiness and if this is what gave him that, she’d support him.

But supporting her brother and his feelings for a woman was quite different than supporting her brother’s choice to follow this a queen who demanded loyalty without having earned it. She could tell this was going to be tricky. She understood that they needed Daenerys’ dragon to win this fight against the dead, but she didn’t have to like the fact that apparently the queen demanded everyone bend the knee before she’d pledge her help. She could hear the northern lords grumbling about it, could feel in her heart that this was going to go poorly somewhere, somehow.

But for now, Sansa sat back in her chair at the high table and observed. If there was little she could thank Petyr for, it was learning the power of watching and listening. She wanted to learn more about this new queen and whether she could be trusted, and she desperately wanted to protect her brother.

Sansa looked up as she heard the door creak to her right. She saw Arya slip in and take the seat next to her, giving a small nod to show that she’d successfully gotten Sandor upstairs into the family wing. Sansa smiled and whispered her thanks before turning her body back towards her brother and his contingent of officers. They were regrouping and filling the northern lords in on King’s Landing and what was known about the dead.

She was happy to have her family back under one roof and she knew she could thank Daenerys for that at least. It was that thought that had her sending a small smile to the other woman as Jon rose, signaling the end of the meeting. After the northern lords had left, Sansa turned to her brother.

“Your rooms are ready for you, Your Grace. Yours as well, Queen Daenerys. The fires have been set, the furs turned down, and there are hot baths waiting for you should you so desire.”

“Thank you, sister,” Jon said, hugging her and placing a small kiss to her temple. “I look forward to being clean and warm. I’ll show Daenerys to her rooms.”

The queen looked at Sansa for a moment, pausing before speaking. Sansa knew she was being sized up. “Yes, thank you Lady Sansa. We have been traveling for so long and I look forward to a short respite.” She paused again, and Sansa could tell she was selecting her next words. “We will feast tomorrow so I can formally meet my people. Jon has bent the knee and they need to meet their queen. Tonight, Jon and I will sup alone.”

Sansa took a deep breath before responding, but Arya beat her to it. 

“Oh, gods. You’re one of those, aren’t you?”

“Excuse you?” Daenerys’ eyes flashed. “You’ll do best to remember who I am. I am your queen and you will speak to me accordingly.”

Sansa interrupted before Arya could speak another word. She wasn’t known for her tact. 

“Jon is our king. He is the person our people have chosen and they will not give that up lightly. They do not know you, you do not know them. You are not of the North and will never understand who we are. I will call you queen when you marry my brother, the king.”

“Your brother has bent the knee, he has ceded his power to me. If do you not follow through, I will have to remind you what I bring with me,” she said as her dragons roared outside the keep.

“Dany - “ Jon started, looking between all three woman.

“Did you just threaten my sister?” Arya asked, stepping forward in front of Sansa. “I don’t care who you are, you do not threaten my family. I’ve heard about you, burning your victims alive if they don’t “willingly” bend the knee. Sansa is right, our people willingly chose Jon as their king. Forcing people to choose to call you queen under threat of death makes you no different than all the other kings and queens we’ve had. We will never support that, or you, if that’s how you expect to rule.”

Daenerys’ eyes blazed brightly before she turned away and headed out of the Great Hall.

“Sansa, Arya…” Jon started, looking worried. “Give her a chance, she’s a good person and our rightful queen. We need her help to beat the dead and she has already saved many people along the way.”

Sansa sighed and looked towards the now closed doors. “I will try, brother. That’s all I can promise. I have seen too many kings and queens who let power go to their heads. Too many who believed that only they could possibly be right. I will not be forced to follow a ruler who threatens her own people if they do not obey her.”

Arya scoffed, before taking out her new dagger and digging out some dirt under her nails. “Fine. I’ll try. But if she threatens a Stark again, I will show her what I’ve learned since leaving King’s Landing. She’ll not like it.”

Jon sighed and nodded his head. “We’ll start there then. I will see you tomorrow morning to break out fast.” He hugged his sisters again before saying, “it’s so good to be home. I love you both very much.”

“Well, that went well,” Arya snarked as Jon left the hall. “If I play nice and don’t kill her do you think she’d let me ride her dragon?”

 


End file.
